


Girls Your Age

by longhairandbarefeet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairandbarefeet/pseuds/longhairandbarefeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa moves in with her host family and accidentally turns everything upside down (Modern AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girls Your Age

Jaime is sitting alone at the kitchen table grading papers when he first sees her. She stands behind his wife Jane with a duffle bag on her shoulder, and a sweet smile placed perfectly on her pink lips. He shouldn’t notice her lips, or how blue her eyes are, and he damn well shouldn’t notice how long her legs are, but he does. 

“Honey, this is Sansa.” Jane says, and Jaime lifts his reading glasses off his face to lock eyes with the girl standing in the doorway behind his wife. She is young, maybe a couple years older than Natalie, but she has a look about her that emits life experience. 

“Hi Sansa.” Jaime says standing up to shake her hand, and she takes it quickly with enthusiasm. “I’m Jaime.”

“Of course.” Sansa puts her hand back down at her side. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Lannister.”

Mr. Lannister. He wants to say the cheesy dad line, ‘no that’s my father,’ but he swallows it and smiles. He sits back down at the dining room table and listens to Jane give her the grand tour of the house. Jane goes over the different house rules and shows her where the linen closet is. 

“How old are you anyway, dear?” Jane asks, and Jaime can’t help the way his ears perk up to hear her answer.

“Seventeen.” Sansa responds. 

Jaime sits staring blankly at the paper on the table in front of him, because now he feels like a fucking bastard, and he doesn’t know if he can live for six months like that.

+

He is sitting on the porch at midnight reading when she walks out with an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth, and wearing a little sundress that has bright red cherries printed on it. It’s all a bit cliché, really, and he wonders if she has a pair of heart shaped sunglasses to match it. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Lannister.” Sansa pulls the cigarette from her lips, and drops it to the ground stepping on it. “I know it’s against the house rules to smoke.” 

“It’s okay.” Jaime says shutting the book, and waving for her to come and sit on the swing beside of him. “Please stop calling me that. Call me Jaime.”

“Alright.” Sansa sits down beside of him. He pretends he isn’t affected by the proximity, pretends he doesn’t notice that she smells like wild oranges and sugary candy he shouldn’t be eating. “What are you reading, Jaime?”

“Romeo and Juliet.” He lifts his copy, worn and tattered like everything else on his bookshelf is, and lets her inspect the cover. “I’m rereading it for my classes next week.”

“I love Shakespeare, but who doesn’t?” Sansa says pulling her pack of cigarettes out, and looking at him for approval. He nods. She lights it up, and blows out the smoke. 

“Comedy or Tragedy?” Jaime asks, watching her as she flicks the ash effortlessly from the tip.

“Tragedy, always. They have the better love stories.” Sansa takes a quick puff, and flicks the cigarette prematurely into the yard. “Ever since I was a little girl I couldn’t resist fairytales. What little girl doesn’t love the image of some knight in shining armor whisking her away?” 

“Except white knights don’t exist, princess.” Jaime says tersely. He also wonders if he has overstepped himself by calling her a pet name, something endearing, but it doesn’t seem to affect her.

“Can’t a little girl dream?” She says, and looks over at him smiling. He returns it, but it lasts too long, the look they share. It makes his skin crawl to think of Jane or Natalie walking out and seeing the way he looks at her. Sans is such a pretty girl with pretty ideas. 

“Well I should be going to sleep. I have an early class to teach.” Jaime says standing up, and walking to the screen door pretending this interaction had little affect on him as he did so.

“I should probably too.” Sansa stands up, and pulls at the hem of her dress. She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t and he is grateful for that. 

 

+

“Sansa seems nice, doesn’t she?” Jane says cutting up cucumbers while he stirs the noodles for the spaghetti. He clears his throat so his voice doesn’t falter when he decides to finally respond.

“Very nice.” Jaime replies as he continues to stir. He lifts a noodle from the pot, and sticks it in his mouth. It burns for a moment while he chews, and realizes that it isn’t ready yet so he turns the burner up. “Where are she and Nat anyways?”

“Natalie wanted to show Sansa the “cool spots” around town.” Jane says stifling a giggle, and sticking a piece of a cucumber in her mouth. “I secretly think she wanted a wing woman to meet cute boys.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jaime asks. He is concerned for Natalie; she is after all his daughter. He ignores the nagging part of him that doesn’t want to think of Sansa meeting boys her age. 

“Why not?” Jane replies.

“She’s only fifteen Jane.” Jaime argues. “She has plenty of time to meet boys, and I think it’s more important she focus on school.” 

“Oh please, remember when we were her age?” Jane says grinning from ear to ear, nostalgia lacing her humorous tone and he does remember. 

He was seventeen when he had first met Jane, and he was everything he tells Natalie to stay away from. His golden blonde hair used to be much longer, and slicked back with a comb because he thought he was James Dean or Elvis reincarnated. He always wore black leather jackets, tight jeans, and demure smiles that used to make girls swoon. It was a far cry from who he is now, an English professor who wears tweed blazers on a daily basis.

“Yeah...I was a prick.” Jaime replies. “I don’t know why you put up with it.” He smiles at her teasingly before pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“I ask myself that everyday.” 

“Ew. Can you not?” Natalie says standing from the doorframe with Sansa beside of her. They both look amused at the situation they walked in on, but Jaime only feels uncomfortable by it. Jane responds with something funny because the girls laugh, but he is too busy focusing on Sansa, and what she is wearing, and the way it hugs her perfectly.

Goddamnit he really is a bastard. 

+

“We must stop meeting like this.” Sansa says leaning against the screen door, and Jaime looks up from his book to see her standing with the porch light shining down on her. It’s like she is an angel who lost her wings doing something she shouldn’t have. 

“Yeah.” Jaime says, and maybe when he was younger he could have come up with more or something clever, but he isn’t young anymore and he saves all of his lengthy sentences for his lectures. 

“What is on the syllabus this week?” She says pulling a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of her pajama pants, and Christ if they don’t have little red hearts on them. 

“Lolita by Nabokov.” He replies, and she examines it with a knowing smile, her cheeks bright and pink as she lights up at the mention of it. 

“I love that book.” Sansa says glowing, and he blames the porch light, but he knows it’s all her. 

“Really?” Jaime purses his lips and watches her, as she looks offended. It’s like she wrote the novel herself. “I think I liked it better the first few times I read it.”

“Well what do you think this time?” She says with a tilt of her head, and the light catches the different shades of red in her hair. 

“Enlightening.” Jaime replies closing the book, and watching her as she sits down beside of him. He is always watching her. While eating dinner, watching television with the family, and he feels some shame for it, but mostly he doesn’t. He just feels the raw feeling of want. 

“Enlightening, hm?” Sansa says and she sounds surprised by his choice of words. “How so?” 

“I don’t know. Humbert isn’t as redeemable this time around.” He sounds less than articulate as he pulls the cigarette from her lips, and takes a puff. He hasn’t smoked in years, not since Jane announced she was pregnant with Natalie, and he hates to admit how much he missed the taste of nicotine. 

He looks at the tip of the cigarette as he gives it back to her, and sees a red lipstick mark on the end that Sansa must have left, and he feels in some sick fucked up way that he has kissed her, tasted her. 

“He was in love.” Sansa says looking at him thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving his, and he counts every long eyelash she has because it’s all too much for him to take. He is a coward for not turning away. “And sometimes it doesn’t matter if you’re redeemable or not. I find Humbert to be interesting, and I find his adoration with his Lolita to be romantic.”

“That’s not romance, sweetheart.” Jaime says laughing flippantly, trying to lighten the situation. “It’s something else, something sick.” 

“Who’s to say that’s not romantic?” 

 

+

“I notice when you stare at me.” Sansa says a week later as they sit on the swing together. It has become their thing. After Natalie, and Jane have gone to bed Jaime gravitates to the front porch hoping she’ll be there. She always is. 

“What are you talking about?” He asks, his eyes rereading the paragraph he was on because he can’t process the brashness of her statement. 

“I like it.” Sansa says shrugging at him. “I like the way you look at me.”

“I shouldn’t be looking at you, Sansa.” Jaime responds. It’s the only honest thing he can think to say that won’t get him into too much trouble. The other responses are more physical, and less appropriate given the circumstances. 

“And why is that, Jaime?” Sansa teases him. She has gotten good at that.

“There are a thousand reasons.” Jaime clarifies. 

Those reasons mean nothing when she leans her warm body into him, and presses her soft lips to his. He pretends he is going to pull away, but he only brings her closer by softly pulling on the bottom of her white tank top. He hasn’t kissed anyone besides Jane in the last twenty years, and kissing Sansa is like trying to play a game he’s been out of for years. He listens to her moans as signs of approval, and every time she does it, he softly pulls on her bottom lip with his teeth earning another moan. He’s trying to please her, envelope her, swallow her, learn from her, teach her. 

“You’re a good kisser.” Sansa says. 

“And you’re a bad influence.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written ages ago for the game of ships challenge back in December. I hope you enjoy!


End file.
